How awful is that hour when con, science stings.

How awful is that hour when con, science stings.

There are moments of life that we never forget, which brighten and brighten as time steals away.

The thundering voice that wrings, in one dark, damning moment, crimes of years!

Green sods are all their monument; and yet it tells A nobler history than pillared piles, Or the eternal pyramids.

The world is full of poetry. The air is living with its spirit; and the waves dance to the music of its melodies, and sparkle in its brightness.

I am one who finds within me a nobility that spurns the idle pratings of the great, and their mean boasts of what their fathers were, while they themselves are fools effeminate.